hardened husks

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leave yourself vulnerable and you let yourself bleed red;

place trust in another person and you let yourself betrayed.

don’t ever hope and you will never cry;

don’t ever live and you will never die.

for the record, i totally do not endorse this view.

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S O L A C E N D

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i’ve been hit by a hurricane.
my only memories were that of pain
and the slightest, faintest taste of rain.

i’ve been thrown up into the sky.
the only thought on my mind was ‘why?’
i was a bird that forgot to fly.

i’ve been swept away by the gale.
my lungs fail! a voiceless wail!
a silent cadence to end this tale.

i’ve been standing in the eye of the storm.
obliviously, i basked in the calm.
yet as it all ends, i stand unusually calm.
for few have seen the beauty of a storm.

i’ve been hit by a hurricane.
my last memories were not that of pain
but the slightly pleasant taste of rain.

the itch that just won’t go away

You’ve just caught it.
The itch that just won’t go away.

You scratch it.
It feels good.
Temporarily, ephemerally, but unmistakably good.
You scratch it; over and over and over again.
Until you bleed and it hurts;
Until you bleed and you hurt.
Yet you continue scratching;
It hurts, but it still felt good.
It’s strange, and you’re confused;
You know it’d be bad if you kept scratching.
Yet you continued scratching anyway.

Another scratch.
Ah.
There’s no mistaking it this time.
One scratch too far; It really hurts.
It might have felt good some time ago, but all it is now is pain.
You stop scratching immediately.
You get up, look for medication and slowly tend to that wound.
Slowly, but surely, it mends.
It mends, and it hurts less.
It hurts less, and it hurts less.
Eventually, you feel much better.
Until it no longer hurts.
You remove those bandages only to be greeted by scars,
Tangible reminders that stick with you,

Forever.

As you move your fingers to touch it,
A familiar sensation shoots up your spine.
Like an old friend,
You recognised it immediately.

Ah.

A new itch.